


The Serpent of Naka Cave

by EscapingEarth



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (sort of), Good Omens AU, Human AU, Human Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), giant snake rock naka cave, i saw a picture and had an idea, this is pure self indulgent silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EscapingEarth/pseuds/EscapingEarth
Summary: When Aziraphale visits Naka Cave in Thailand on his holiday, he expects he'll see an interesting rock that looks like a snake. What he gets instead is a connection deeper than his earthly bonds, and an unexpected meeting with a handsome demon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	The Serpent of Naka Cave

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely inspired by a picture someone shared in one of my GO facebook groups. They thought it could inspire something angsty, but I can't cope with ineffable angst, so I took the soft route! I hope you enjoy my strange little AU!

Aziraphale gazed up at the monolithic figure in wonder. It was just a strange rock formation, the locals had assured him. Unusual, but not unnatural. How interesting, the tour guide had said, that thousands of years ago, over thousands of years, this cave had eroded away to form a giant snake, staring out at the forest below. Some superstitious people thought maybe it was the Original Snake, from the garden of Eden, petrified forever for his sins. But that was unlikely, laughed the tour guide. Just a rock. But it made for interesting stories, at least.

  
Aziraphale reached into his backpack for his battered old film camera. He didn’t use it often, so he didn’t see the point in replacing it with something more modern. Besides, there was something romantic about developing film by hand in his tiny little darkroom. He raised the viewfinder to his eye, poised to take the snap – and hesitated. There was something about the face of it, the apparent eye in the apparent snake’s head, that seemed disappointed, unhappy with him. A camera shy statue. Very well. He put the camera away, brushing off the before-unnoticed biscuit crumbs as he did so. The few other tourists who had made the trek out with him were gathered together, flashes from camera phones and DSLRs throwing the cracks and crevices of the snake into sharp relief.

  
Wiping sweat from his forehead, Aziraphale continued forward toward the cave mouth. He could see the imprint of the snake even here, at the base of his climb. If it was a real giant animal, he supposed this would be the base of its tail. Aziraphale smiled to himself and began to climb. If only.

  
As he made the ascent Aziraphale found his path almost obscured at times by the body of the snake, its scales prominent in the dappled light of the cave. He reached out a hand, running his fingers across the rough surface reverently. “You are beautiful.” He murmured to himself as he walked on, one hand still connected to the rock.  
Eventually sunlight broke through the barrier of vines and roots that had wormed their way through the cave, and Aziraphale came out into the clearing at the top of the hill – and face to face with his snake. From here he could clearly see the carvings that made up the face; the lined mouth, set in an immortal expression of disdain, the eye that has caught his attention earlier, which now seemed to be staring back at him questioningly? Now what? Aziraphale had an urge to stroke its snout, but as that was several meters over a sheer drop, he settled for petting the neck of the great stone beast. “Now what, indeed, my dear?” He pondered aloud. There was still a little time left here with the guide, and Aziraphale found he didn’t want to leave the snake’s side. He could at least try to pass his remaining time productively. “May I sketch you, good sir?” Perhaps he should find himself ridiculous, speaking to a rock, but he simply thought it was the polite thing to do. He’d been given the distinct impression the snake didn’t want to be photographed, but perhaps a drawing, which was more forgiving, would be acceptable. You could capture life much easier with your own hands than in print. He waited a moment, to see if the snake would deny him, but nothing happened, so he pulled out a tea stained old sketchbook and a small case of pencils from his fraying old backpack and sat cross-legged in the soil, ready to draw.

  
The sun sank slowly in the sky behind Aziraphale as he worked, capturing the essence of the great snake in the garden, regal and powerful – not trapped in stone, simply resting a while. Aziraphale paid great attention to his facial expression, the powerful jaw, the condescending brow, the eye, content in the moment. He was broken from his concentration by the shout of the tour guide, gathering up his group to head back to the bus. Aziraphale stood with a groan, brushing leaves off himself as he rose. “What do you think?” He asked, presenting his work to the snake. In the setting sunlight, he was certain the rock was smiling at him. He smiled back fondly, bid the snake farewell and descended to join the rest of the group.

  
As the rickety yellow bus drove away, and the other tourists burbled away about how incredible the sight had been, Aziraphale stared down at his sketch, unable to shake that snaky smile from his mind. He wondered if he could come back again tomorrow. He’d had a thoroughly planned itinerary for his trip away, and tomorrow had promised a bustling city full of culture and food, but this seemed more important somehow. The snake hadn’t cared about the other people, but as he had left, Aziraphale wondered if it wasn’t just him who wanted to stay – the snake seemed to want him there, too. He’d sleep on it. Decide in the morning.

  
He knew he was dreaming, because he was viewing himself from above, like a guardian angel watching his charge bumbling about the earth. He was in the forest again, at the cave with the snake, but he wasn’t alone. There was a young man, about his age, with long red hair tumbling down his back in waves, wearing a long black robe. He was on his hands and knees, reaching out towards Aziraphale with a desperate expression, mouthing the word “please” over and over as though he couldn’t speak. He rushed towards the man to help, but when he touched him all he felt was cold hard rock, and he looked up to see the man had turned to stone, his face set in terror, and the giant stone snake was suddenly even bigger, towering over Aziraphale with fury in his eyes, ready to strike.  
Aziraphale woke with a start, sweat pouring off his forehead and back. In his haste to get up he tangled himself in his mosquito net and suffered a momentary panic, thinking the snake had followed him through into wakefulness and was coiled around him, trying to choke him. As consciousness flooded into him fully he realised the reality of the situation and calmed down, managing to detangle himself without much further incident. The dream had decided it. He was going back, on the earliest bus.

  
It took all of Aziraphale’s self-control not to fly off the bus when it pulled up to the site. He meandered out slowly, aided greatly by the elderly couple in front of him, forcing himself to look around the forest as though he hadn’t come for one reason only. After the bus had emptied he wandered as casually as he could over to the driver. Five minutes, much confusion, laughter and trading of notes later, Aziraphale wandered away again. Though he couldn’t understand why a British man wanted to spend the night in a Thai forest, the driver would leave this one tourist here and pick him up the next morning. Finally, Aziraphale allowed himself to look at the snake. It seemed to be laughing at him! Bribery? Really? Aziraphale scoffed and rolled his eyes at the statue, strolling into the forest. He had the whole day and night, might as well enjoy the surroundings whilst everyone else ogled his beast.

  
Finally, sunset came, and the last tour group trundled away in the old yellow bus. Aziraphale was alone at last. He’d been hovering just inside the cave for a while, just so no one caught up with him as a straggler and manhandled him into the vehicle, but now he rushed up to the summit, where the snake could see him. “Hello my friend,” he murmured, stroking the serpent’s neck in greeting. It seemed to flex underneath his hand, but that wasn’t possible – was it? Unsure what to do, or say, Aziraphale began to ramble on about his day. He told the snake what animals he had seen or thought he’d seen, talked about the lovely old couple he’d been next to on the bus here, and told him how no matter where he was in the forest, whatever angle, he could still see the snake, looming over all. “But that’s enough about me,” He finished, as the moon began to peak over the horizon. “What about you?” Aziraphale shivered at the changing temperature. The great stone snake seemed anxious, suddenly. The mouth appeared downturned and in the eye Aziraphale could only see pure distress. “Oh, you poor thing,” he gasped. He knelt by its side and draped an arm over the stone neck in comfort. “You really are trapped inside there, aren’t you?” The rock couldn’t nod, but Aziraphale saw it anyway. If only there was something he could do, Aziraphale thought. This beautiful creature deserved to be free. But he was just an ordinary man, and this was a problem of ancient, possibly celestial, origin. What could he possibly do?

  
He settled in against the body of the snake as the moon rose higher in the sky, wishing for some miracle to occur. Whatever sins he had committed in the past had surely been atoned for by now, thousands of years cast in rock with careless humans gawping up at him and clambering all over his body. The natural world hadn’t shied away, cloaking him with trees and moss and vines, giving the impression, now Aziraphale was really looking, of a shield, of protection. Someone was looking out for his serpent, even if he had been cast out.

  
“I wonder what your name is?” He asked the monolith. “How should I address you, if we were to talk properly?” He felt a grumble underneath him, as though it was frustrated. Understandable really – but the grumbling hadn’t stopped. In fact, it had increased in severity, and Aziraphale was soon shaken away from the snake. He stumbled around on his knees to see what was happening.

  
The great creature was rising, inexplicably, from where it had rested for thousands of years. Groans and cracks rent the air as trees were torn from their roots, pulled up with the earth as the serpent stretched itself free. Aziraphale cried out it terror and scrabbled away backwards, hoping for cover as shrapnel fell through the air and the snake stretched its enormous jaw wide, but none of the falling debris hit him, and the snake closed its mouth as its head moved towards Aziraphale. He stared into its yellow eyes and saw no hunger or malice, just an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. Somehow he pulled himself back up into a standing position, and reached a hand out towards the snake, which lowered its head and closed its eyes. Aziraphale placed his forehead against the snake’s snout and his hand on its cheek, stroking with a gentle motion. “Welcome back, dear serpent” he whispered, closing his eyes in happiness.

  
He felt the snake back away and his eyes snapped open. Was it going to leave him now? The snake was gone, but not vanished, as he had feared. There was a young man standing in his place, a young man who seemed oddly familiar – he wore a flowing black robe, and dark red curls cascaded down his back. Aziraphale was just taking in the golden eyes and the scales climbing up the man’s neck when he spoke.

  
“Well, that made a bit of a mess!” His voice was scratchy and barely audible, throat seized up after 6000 years of being stone.

  
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Asked Aziraphale, still a little wonderstruck.

  
“I said that made a bit of a mess. The shedding? With the trees? Keep up Angel!” The man-who-had-been-a-snake repeated. The area did, in fact, look like it had recently been hit by a bomb, Aziraphale realised. He hoped he wouldn’t have to explain any of this to anyone – how could he possibly convince them the giant rock that looked like a snake was a giant snake after all, and it had not only come back to life but turned into an attractive man?

  
“Crowley” The man said, breaking Aziraphale out of his spiralling panic.

  
“Hmm?”

  
“My name. You asked what my name was. It’s Crowley.” He smiled sheepishly.

  
“Ah! A pleasure to meet you, Crowley. I’m not sure I introduced myself properly – my name is Aziraphale.” He held out a hand for Crowley to shake. His hand was surprisingly warm, his grasp firm and confident.

  
“The pleasure’s all mine” Crowley replied with a wry grin. “You’re not afraid of me, then?”

  
“I don’t see why I should be,” Aziraphale responded, a little taken aback at the shift in conversation. Crowley’s grin grew wider.

  
“You do know who I am? What I did?”

  
“Well, some tales say you were the Snake of Eden, the Original Sin. But that was a long time ago, and we humans have managed to bumble on since then just fine, so I rather think you’ve done your time for that. Frankly I’m more concerned about how I’m going to explain all of this to the local authorities” Aziraphale gestured to the chaos around them, and the space where a giant snake rock wasn’t. Crowley’s eyebrows shot up, surprised by his answer. Then he laughed, a short bark that echoed through the trees.

  
“Don’t bother. Let them think of something for themselves! Much more fun that way. Probably best not get back on that bus in the morning though…you could come along with me though, if you like?”

  
Aziraphale wondered where that would be, then realised it didn’t matter. Of course he would go – but not without it seeming he was giving it serious thought, first.  
“Are you trying to tempt me?” He narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion, but suspected the smile he couldn’t wipe off his face was a dead giveaway.

  
“Only if it’s working” Crowley replied. Aziraphale gave an overdramatic sigh.

  
“Well I suppose there’s nowhere else I can go for now. I’ll go off with you then, my wily serpent.”

  
They descended the hill together in silence, Crowley only speaking again once they had reached the ground and begun walking away.  
“Thank you, angel. For, y’know.” He gestured vaguely at the space where he had been frozen.

  
“Well, I – You’re very welcome. But – why do you keep calling me that? Angel, I mean. I am but a mere mortal” Aziraphale added with a hint of humour.

  
“Because I rather think you might be. Only an angel could have freed me from that prison-” Aziraphale gestured as though to interrupt, but Crowley continued, “mortal or not, you’re an angel to me, and to that lot.” They both cast their eyes to the sky as though they could see the workings of heaven from where they were.  
As they walked on, side by side, Aziraphale felt Crowley’s hand slip into his, just as warm and firm as it had been the first time. He glanced down at their joined hands and smiled, tightening his grip as he realised.

  
Just as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this made sense, I wrote it whilst at work as soon as the inspiration hit.
> 
> I feel as though I could've done more with this, and maybe one day I'll come back to expand on the idea, but for now I hope you enjoyed what I managed to squeeze out of my creatively starved brain!
> 
> Constructive criticism welcomed and encouraged!


End file.
